A Song of Snow and Ashes by S.J. Drew
the weapons lockers, which could be accessed from the outside. At the end opposite the front door were five practice dummies. They were six foot tall metal cylinders with the top back quarter cut away. The inside was hollow, the front was covered with thick padding, and they were set into tracks in the floor. Each track was about three feet long. Beside each dummy was a box of sand bags with numbers on them. Aidan was heading straight for them.
"Why don't we practice in here?" she asked, noting that it was empty.
"Outside is good enough as long as the weather is good." He pointed at the odd looking contraptions. "These are practice dummies. We use these to test how powerful our kicks and punches are. The bags are put inside to mimic an opponents weight." He plopped a couple of the bags in and arranged them. "Now, remember that side kick I taught you?"
She nodded.
"Kick that."
Her foot landed solidly and the dummy sailed backwards, crashing against the end of the track. Both looked surprised.
"Gods." He put in more sandbags. "Again."
Another solid kick knocked the dummy back again, but with less of a crash. This process was repeated until the dummy didn't move when she kicked it.
"Gods," he repeated in Northern. "I have to tell Hialmar about this."
She puzzled out the words in her head. "Why?" she asked, in Northern.
He looked up at her, startled. "You're picking this up fast."
"I didn't catch that," she said, switching back to the Light language.
"Doesn't matter," he replied, switching language. "Look, do you have any idea how much weight is that dummy?"
She shook her head.
"Let's put it this way. You would have knocked a man twice my size, in chain mail armor, backwards three feet and landed him on his rear end."
"Really?"
"Yes. That's why I was asking you if it was hard to block my punches. I should be a lot stronger than you are, but you didn't seem to have any trouble blocking, or catching my arm. It should have at least hurt some. How could you not know how strong you are? What do you eat where you come from?"
"I think this is a side effect," she replied. "I wasn't this strong before. I would have noticed."
"Side effect?"
She nodded. "Of being Chosen."
"Well, that's something," he replied dryly.
"Excuse me?" she asked sharply.
"Come on. Now that I know your strength, you had better learn it before you accidentally hurt someone."
"Somehow I don't think this is going to make it easier to get along with these people," she thought glumly.
He led her back to the training area and taught her some more blocks, then finished up the day with another long jog. Dinner came and went, and she was left alone again. She returned to her cottage and studied languages until her eyes wouldn't stay open, then she dropped into a fitful sleep.
Donnan spent the night in a guest room in the temple, and woke up with someone knocking at his door.
"Come in, Blake," he called, crawling out of bed.
"How did you know it was me?" the acolyte asked.
"Who else would it be?" he shrugged. "Can I borrow some clothes?"
He nodded. "You can probably keep them, if you ask."
"Alain's goin' to wonder where I got the money for nice clothes once I tell him I got fired."
"Why tell him you got fired?"
"It'll be easier that way. When's breakfast?"
"In a few minutes. Get dressed and I'll take you to the dining hall." He flushed a little. "And if there are people there, well, don't be surprised."
He raised an eyebrow. "I guess the clerics want to meet their Avatar."
"You can't blame them for that."
"I guess not," he sighed, and got dressed.
Blake lead him through the temple. The outside was windowless, dull black stone, but the inside was wood planks and it was well lit by several lamps. The path seemed surprisingly twisty for what was a basic rectangular building. They reached the dining hall, which was a large room with several long tables lined up next to each other, and a head table at one end. It looked large enough to hold about a hundred people, and it was nearly full.
Donnan felt his face flush red. "I didn't expect everyone in your temple," he whispered to Blake.
"Neither did I. Looks like we've been saved seats at the head table. I never got to sit there before."
"You're gettin' benefits already," he said dryly.
They slowly walked past the clerics and up to the head table. The head priest stood up and bowed. He had brown hair with streaks of gray, a well kept beard and mustache, and blue eyes. He was not very tall, and a little on the plump side.
"My name is Dwyer. Welcome to our temple, my Lord."
"Lord?" he repeated, surprised.
"Of course. Sit, eat, enjoy. We will talk after breakfast in my study. Acolyte Blake may join us, if you so desire."
Blake looked a little embarrassed. "Thank you, sir."
Donnan took a seat by the priest and the meal started. Covered plates had already been laid out, keeping the food warm. "Is this how it always is?" he whispered to Blake.
He shook his head. "No. Usually us acolytes have to serve the meals. But I guess Dwyer wanted everyone to be here. But someone must have laid these out early. I'm surprised I wasn't asked to do it."
"I'm not," he replied.
The clerics chatted throughout the meal. Donnan didn't join in, but he did listen. The clergy appeared evenly split with men and women. His eyes turned black and he scanned their souls. Everyone seemed to have more Darkness than Light, the older clerics moreso, and almost everyone shivered as his gaze swept over them. He snuck a glance at Dwyer, who didn't react. He didn't have the most Darkness, but it seemed to be quite deep.
"My Lord, that is a violation of our privacy," Dwyer said softly.
"Sorry." He blinked, and his eyes returned to normal.
"You don't have to apologize. I was merely making a comment. The others probably don't know what you were doing."
The conversations seemed to range around normal topics; mostly gossip and some politics. He found it oddly disconcerting. After breakfast, the acolytes started to clear away the plates while the clerics with more rank simply left.
"Come with me, both of you," Dwyer said. He lead them through winding hallways to a comfortable study. There was a large desk, and the walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed with books and scrolls. "Have a seat." He gestured to two comfortable chairs in front of the desk. "So, my Lord. What do you want?"
"From you?" he replied.
Dwyer smiled, but it was a cold smile. "Yes, but more generally, what do you want? Once you tell me that, then I can better determine how the Order can help you get what you want."
"I want things to change."
"In what way?"
"Well, I'm tired of the city guard bein' able to do whatever they want without gettin' in trouble."
"That's very noble. Although I suspect your reasons for wanting that are quite personal."
Donnan shot a dark look at Blake.
"What? Was I supposed to keep that a secret or something? I have to make reports to my superiors about my actions."
"Did you have to tell them who beat me up?" he growled.
"Well, they wanted to know why I didn't want to report this to the guard," he answered sheepishly.
"My Lord, please just be honest with me, no matter how stupid or silly you think it may sound."
He gave Blake another piercing stare.
"I didn't say a word about what we talked about, I promise."
"There are good reasons why I'm head of the Order here," Dwyer remarked.
"So I see. I don't trust you," Donnan replied.
"As well you should not. But if you want our help, you're going to have put aside some of your distrust. We can't help you if we don't know what you want."
; He sighed. "I don't really know what I want. I know I'm tired of bein' treated like I'm worthless and stupid just 'cause I'm poor. Just because I didn't get to go to school. Just because I've got no parents anymore. I'm tired of rich people bein' allowed to get away with things I'd get in jail for. I'm tired of people gettin' things just 'cause of who their parents are. I'm tired of gettin' stepped on and pushed down. And I know it's selfish and I'm thinkin' small, but I want to see that bastard Reese get what's comin' to him, and there's this woman I'd really like to get to know. But she won't look twice at some poor orphan with no education, no breedin', and no real potential," he explained quickly, his face flushed with embarrassment.
"That I can understand," the priest replied. "There's no shame in wanting to improve one's station in life. Indeed, that's why many of us joined the Order. There's also no shame in wanting to impress a woman. Power brings respect. You now have power. If you were to use it, you'd be respected."
"I know better than that. I didn't go to school, but I can read. I've read a lot about the Mage Wars. They tried to rule just because they had magical power, and we all know how well that worked," he retorted dryly.
"This is true," agreed Dwyer. "Then what do you suggest?"
"I'm telling you, you could rule," muttered Blake.
"Why would I want to do that?" he snapped.
"Why not?" asked the priest.
"I don't know how," he answered, looking flustered. "And what good would it do if I did?"
"If you were in charge, you could easily change how justice is administered. This Reese would have to pay for his crimes. You would be part of the upper class, and be able to impress this lady."
"All I need is education and money for that, I think," he replied. "Are you serious about this? I mean, I'm
"Why don't we practice in here?" she asked, noting that it was empty.
"Outside is good enough as long as the weather is good." He pointed at the odd looking contraptions. "These are practice dummies. We use these to test how powerful our kicks and punches are. The bags are put inside to mimic an opponents weight." He plopped a couple of the bags in and arranged them. "Now, remember that side kick I taught you?"
She nodded.
"Kick that."
Her foot landed solidly and the dummy sailed backwards, crashing against the end of the track. Both looked surprised.
"Gods." He put in more sandbags. "Again."
Another solid kick knocked the dummy back again, but with less of a crash. This process was repeated until the dummy didn't move when she kicked it.
"Gods," he repeated in Northern. "I have to tell Hialmar about this."
She puzzled out the words in her head. "Why?" she asked, in Northern.
He looked up at her, startled. "You're picking this up fast."
"I didn't catch that," she said, switching back to the Light language.
"Doesn't matter," he replied, switching language. "Look, do you have any idea how much weight is that dummy?"
She shook her head.
"Let's put it this way. You would have knocked a man twice my size, in chain mail armor, backwards three feet and landed him on his rear end."
"Really?"
"Yes. That's why I was asking you if it was hard to block my punches. I should be a lot stronger than you are, but you didn't seem to have any trouble blocking, or catching my arm. It should have at least hurt some. How could you not know how strong you are? What do you eat where you come from?"
"I think this is a side effect," she replied. "I wasn't this strong before. I would have noticed."
"Side effect?"
She nodded. "Of being Chosen."
"Well, that's something," he replied dryly.
"Excuse me?" she asked sharply.
"Come on. Now that I know your strength, you had better learn it before you accidentally hurt someone."
"Somehow I don't think this is going to make it easier to get along with these people," she thought glumly.
He led her back to the training area and taught her some more blocks, then finished up the day with another long jog. Dinner came and went, and she was left alone again. She returned to her cottage and studied languages until her eyes wouldn't stay open, then she dropped into a fitful sleep.
Donnan spent the night in a guest room in the temple, and woke up with someone knocking at his door.
"Come in, Blake," he called, crawling out of bed.
"How did you know it was me?" the acolyte asked.
"Who else would it be?" he shrugged. "Can I borrow some clothes?"
He nodded. "You can probably keep them, if you ask."
"Alain's goin' to wonder where I got the money for nice clothes once I tell him I got fired."
"Why tell him you got fired?"
"It'll be easier that way. When's breakfast?"
"In a few minutes. Get dressed and I'll take you to the dining hall." He flushed a little. "And if there are people there, well, don't be surprised."
He raised an eyebrow. "I guess the clerics want to meet their Avatar."
"You can't blame them for that."
"I guess not," he sighed, and got dressed.
Blake lead him through the temple. The outside was windowless, dull black stone, but the inside was wood planks and it was well lit by several lamps. The path seemed surprisingly twisty for what was a basic rectangular building. They reached the dining hall, which was a large room with several long tables lined up next to each other, and a head table at one end. It looked large enough to hold about a hundred people, and it was nearly full.
Donnan felt his face flush red. "I didn't expect everyone in your temple," he whispered to Blake.
"Neither did I. Looks like we've been saved seats at the head table. I never got to sit there before."
"You're gettin' benefits already," he said dryly.
They slowly walked past the clerics and up to the head table. The head priest stood up and bowed. He had brown hair with streaks of gray, a well kept beard and mustache, and blue eyes. He was not very tall, and a little on the plump side.
"My name is Dwyer. Welcome to our temple, my Lord."
"Lord?" he repeated, surprised.
"Of course. Sit, eat, enjoy. We will talk after breakfast in my study. Acolyte Blake may join us, if you so desire."
Blake looked a little embarrassed. "Thank you, sir."
Donnan took a seat by the priest and the meal started. Covered plates had already been laid out, keeping the food warm. "Is this how it always is?" he whispered to Blake.
He shook his head. "No. Usually us acolytes have to serve the meals. But I guess Dwyer wanted everyone to be here. But someone must have laid these out early. I'm surprised I wasn't asked to do it."
"I'm not," he replied.
The clerics chatted throughout the meal. Donnan didn't join in, but he did listen. The clergy appeared evenly split with men and women. His eyes turned black and he scanned their souls. Everyone seemed to have more Darkness than Light, the older clerics moreso, and almost everyone shivered as his gaze swept over them. He snuck a glance at Dwyer, who didn't react. He didn't have the most Darkness, but it seemed to be quite deep.
"My Lord, that is a violation of our privacy," Dwyer said softly.
"Sorry." He blinked, and his eyes returned to normal.
"You don't have to apologize. I was merely making a comment. The others probably don't know what you were doing."
The conversations seemed to range around normal topics; mostly gossip and some politics. He found it oddly disconcerting. After breakfast, the acolytes started to clear away the plates while the clerics with more rank simply left.
"Come with me, both of you," Dwyer said. He lead them through winding hallways to a comfortable study. There was a large desk, and the walls were lined with bookshelves stuffed with books and scrolls. "Have a seat." He gestured to two comfortable chairs in front of the desk. "So, my Lord. What do you want?"
"From you?" he replied.
Dwyer smiled, but it was a cold smile. "Yes, but more generally, what do you want? Once you tell me that, then I can better determine how the Order can help you get what you want."
"I want things to change."
"In what way?"
"Well, I'm tired of the city guard bein' able to do whatever they want without gettin' in trouble."
"That's very noble. Although I suspect your reasons for wanting that are quite personal."
Donnan shot a dark look at Blake.
"What? Was I supposed to keep that a secret or something? I have to make reports to my superiors about my actions."
"Did you have to tell them who beat me up?" he growled.
"Well, they wanted to know why I didn't want to report this to the guard," he answered sheepishly.
"My Lord, please just be honest with me, no matter how stupid or silly you think it may sound."
He gave Blake another piercing stare.
"I didn't say a word about what we talked about, I promise."
"There are good reasons why I'm head of the Order here," Dwyer remarked.
"So I see. I don't trust you," Donnan replied.
"As well you should not. But if you want our help, you're going to have put aside some of your distrust. We can't help you if we don't know what you want."
"That I can understand," the priest replied. "There's no shame in wanting to improve one's station in life. Indeed, that's why many of us joined the Order. There's also no shame in wanting to impress a woman. Power brings respect. You now have power. If you were to use it, you'd be respected."
"I know better than that. I didn't go to school, but I can read. I've read a lot about the Mage Wars. They tried to rule just because they had magical power, and we all know how well that worked," he retorted dryly.
"This is true," agreed Dwyer. "Then what do you suggest?"
"I'm telling you, you could rule," muttered Blake.
"Why would I want to do that?" he snapped.
"Why not?" asked the priest.
"I don't know how," he answered, looking flustered. "And what good would it do if I did?"
"If you were in charge, you could easily change how justice is administered. This Reese would have to pay for his crimes. You would be part of the upper class, and be able to impress this lady."
"All I need is education and money for that, I think," he replied. "Are you serious about this? I mean, I'm